Two Halves
by Pearcem
Summary: Fresh out of a relationship with one George Wickham II and nearing the end of her senior year of university, Elizabeth Bennet thinks life can't get any more hectic. And then her sister gets involved in a rich architect's horrendous family drama, her other sister gets engaged to her ex, and she somehow ends up dancing with Fitzwilliam Darcy at the wedding. Modern AU.
1. Prologue

The sun shone brightly and Lizzy's mother had dressed her up in a blue skirt and white blouse, done her hair in pretty little ponytail. Just the year before her sister Jane had worn the same clothes on her first day of kindergarten, and now Mrs. Bennet was fussing about getting a picture of Lizzy and Jane together.

"One, two...smile, girls!" The camera clicked, and Mrs. Bennet straightened with a smile. Her stomach was getting bigger, Lizzy noticed, and pointed it out to Jane.

"She's having a _baby_, Lizzy," Jane replied, patting her younger sisters head.

The brunette frowned, thinking. "Did she swallow it, Janie?"

"Oh, my pretty girls!" Mrs. Bennet cooed over the picture. "Wait until Daddy sees this!" She put the camera into her purse and herded her children into the car. The drive seemed to take forever, and Lizzy couldn't seem to stop bouncing in her seat to get a look out the window. She'd never been to school and Janie said it was so much fun and everyone was so nice. Janie had a lot of friends, and maybe Lizzy could make some, too.

* * *

Lizzy stared in amazement at the tall building. It was brown with big windows, and there was slides in the yard! "Well, here you are my girls," Mrs. Bennet sighed, helping the girls put their bags down in the schoolyard. She kissed Jane on the forehead, leaving a smudge of bright pink, and then she kissed Lizzy, and Lizzy rubbed at her forehead, wondering if she had the same pink mark. "Be good, I love you, and Daddy and Mommy can't wait to see you after school."

Jane grabbed Lizzy by the hand, waving over her shoulder to their mother. "Come on, Lizzy!" They ran towards the play equipment and Lizzy followed Jane up the ladder and down the slide.

"Let's go again, Janie!" Lizzy tugged at her sister's hand.

"I want to play with my friends, Lizzy," Jane replied and ran over to the swingset. Lizzy frowned. Who could she play with, if not Janie?

As Lizzy surveyed the kids playing around the yard, a boy stepped in front of her. He was a little bit taller than her, with brown hair and brown eyes. He tilted his head to the side. "Who are _you_?"

Lizzy stuck her chin up. "My name is Elizabeth."

The boy pointed to where Janie was on the swingset. "She called you Lizzy."

She put her hands on her hips. "Elizabeth."

He smiled at her, mischievous. "Nice to meet you, Elizabeth." He tugged on her ponytail and took off in a run.


	2. Chapter 1

I peruse the aisles of books, pulling one out every now and again, when the title on the spine catches my attention, but there aren't many of those. I've been such a picky reader lately, and nothing can hold my interest for the entirety of the first chapter. Sighing loudly, I round the corner aisle near the library's front desk.

"Did you not find anything?... Again?" Mary asks without looking up. She licks her finger and flicks to the next page of her book.

I lean against the end of the shelf lightly. "There's nothing _good _-"

"There is, you're just being awfully particular for no good reason at all."

I blink, slightly taken aback by my baby sister's answer. Perhaps Mary _has _been spending too much time with me lately… "Is there a rule that says I can't be particular?"

Mary gives an annoyed sigh. Closes the book she's reading. "No. But you're getting annoying, Lizzy. This is, what? The fourth day in a row you've come to the library? Do you know how lame it makes me look if it seems like I hang out with my older sister all day long? Even at _work_?" Mary just turned nineteen and got this job, and is apparently taking it very seriously. The look she gives me then, with her black hair in braids, reminds me very much of Wednesday Addams.

My fingers rap against the counter. "What? Am I not fun, Mare?" I grin a little at her.

Mary sighs, scooching back in her chair.

I drop my hands from the counter, adjusting the strap of my bag on my shoulder. "Alright, fine. I have to go back to school, anyway. I'll see you later."

Mary gives me a two-fingered wave, opening her book again.

* * *

Jane is beaming up at me from the small, two-person table at our favourite coffee shop. "How was school?"

I sit down in the chair opposite her. "My Professor didn't show up to give his lecture so I went to the library and read."

My older sister laughs, tilting her head back a little. She's the prettiest out of the five of us - with her pale blonde hair and shining blue eyes, her symmetrical face - but I like to think I'm a close second.

"I went to see Mary earlier, though," I tell her.

Jane sighs, props her head up on a fisted hand. "She was thrilled?"

I roll my eyes. "I don't think anything has thrilled Mary, ever." I eye a passing server with a tray full of coffee, wishing it was mine. When I look back at Jane, she has that look on her face - the one she gets when she wants to say something but she's not sure if she should. "Spit it out," I raise my brows at her.

She bites her lip, and when she talks, her voice is lowered to a whisper. "There's this guy…"

I perk up. Jane, interested in someone? "Go on," I encourage.

"He's the architect working on the new school." Jane's cheeks are getting pink. For how popular her looks make her, my sister has always been painfully shy - except when dealing with unruly kindergarteners.

"Well?" I demand. "Details. What does he look like?"

"He's...he has blond hair and the lightest eyes…" She stares dreamily at her mug of steaming tea. When she looks up, she's chewing at her bottom lip again. "And he asked me what I think about the plans for the new elementary school."

I'm smiling at her. "What did you tell him?"

"I said that I thought we needed a bigger library because I was...thinking about you, when we were little."

A laugh escapes me. "There never were enough books in that little library." Jane works at the elementary school we attended together what feels like so long ago, and I think I must have read nearly every book there was. I take a deep breath. "Did you talk about anything else with him?"

Jane blushes profusely, taking small sips of her tea. "No, no - _no_! It was strictly professional."

"He probably wishes it hadn't been," I say to my sister with a raise of my brows. She looks like she might have just choked on the tea in her mouth, and then, once she's composed herself, reaches across the table to slap my hand.

"You're awful!" She whisper-yells.

I have to laugh again. "That may be true, but you still love me."

* * *

Jane drives me back to our apartment afterwards. She pulls up to the curb outside our building and lets me out and heads for Target. She says she needs more pens and only the ones from Target are any good.

When I'm in the elevator I pull out my phone, noting the lack of calls or texts. Usually George texts me, if not only to tell me he'll be busy and won't be able to call me. But there's nothing, no matter how many times I squint at the screen. When the doors ding and I arrive on the sixth floor I pocket my phone.

I unlock my apartment, toss my keys on the table and kick off my shoes. I sigh, knowing I need to buckle down and work on my thesis, but wanting nothing more than a shower. _Shower first_, I negotiate with myself, _and then thesis for an hour, then dinner_.

However, before I've even got a towel wrapped around myself after my shower, my phone rings in my bedroom. I rush to get it, hoping it's George - and it is. "Hey," I answer.

"Hi, Lizzy."

"How was -"

"Fine, Lizzy. Listen, we need to talk."

I frown. "So talk. Isn't that what you typically do when you call someone?"

"I'm breaking up with you," he says. The words jar me into silence, and I stand in the middle of my bedroom, staring at the wall in surprise. I must stay quiet for quite some time because he starts, "Lizzy? Are you there?"

"I'm here," I say.

"Oh, good, I was worried you'd hung up on me there." Why, George, that's a good idea. Before I press the _End Call_ button, he says something that catches my attention. "See, I'm now engaged to someone else and it just wouldn't be right for me to carry on with you, my dear."

Now I do hang up on him. And I stand in my room with my phone in hand, and say "Engaged? _Engaged_?" until the word makes sense in my brain. How could he possibly be engaged to someone else? Has he been engaged to someone else this entire time? Or has he been cheating on me?

I mechanically pull on whatever items of clothing I happen upon first and sit on my bed and try to work on my thesis. This is how Jane finds me half an hour later, blankly staring at the pages in my notebook.

"Hey, I brought dinn - Are you okay, Lizzy?"

I glance up at my sister, dumbfounded. "George got engaged."

She breaks out in a brilliant smile, coming in for a hug. "You got -"

"No," I say sharply and she stops on the spot. "_George_ got engaged. To someone else."

* * *

I'm still reeling the morning after. George, engaged? Out of thin air, apparently.

But I make myself focus on my classes, take meticulous notes in all of them. I have one less thing to occupy my time and that, plainly put, means I have more time to study and make sure I do well on my exams next month.

A week passes like this, and that's when Jane confronts me in that quiet way of hers: "Did you love him, Lizzy?"

I narrow my eyes. "I don't think so."

"Then why are you letting him affect you like this?"

_Because it hurts_, I want to tell her. _There must be something horribly wrong with me for him to be so unhappy that he asks another girl to marry him out of the blue_. But the architect - whose name I've learnt is Charles (_he tells me to call him Charlie_, Jane says) - has asked her on a date tonight, and I don't want to spoil her good mood right before, so I tell her, "We can talk about it after."

And she agrees, but not without a firm look in my direction. She's stubborn like me so I know she won't let this go, and perhaps that is the one good thing we got from our mother.


	3. Chapter 2

**So, a reviewer brought up some pretty valid concerns about the age of the Bennet girls, and I went back and (hopefully) rectified that in the last chapter, and I'll clarify here just everyone is up to speed: Jane is 24, Lizzy is 23, Mary is 19, and Lydia and Kitty are 17-turning-18. It worked a lot better for what I have planned for me to make Lydia and Kitty twins and just generally age up all the girls. **

**Thanks for all the lovely comments!**

* * *

"Lizzy - Lizzy, you have to come get me," Jane pleads.

I turn up the volume on my phone. "I'm sorry, I don't think I heard you right."

"Elizabeth!" Jane's voice is quiet but fierce. "His sisters showed up. And they're drinking - a lot!"

"Janie," I laugh, rolling into a sitting position on the couch. "You'll be fine."

I hear muffled chatter in the background and then Jane is back to whispering into her phone. "His friend is coming! Lizzy, please, please, if you won't come get me will you at least come sit with me so I don't feel so...overwhelmed?" My sister knows just how to tug my heartstrings. The last thing I'm willing to do is let her try to battle her social anxiety alone when she's practically begging for some support.

"I'll be there in twenty. Where are you guys?" I ask, contemplating what I should wear. Currently I'm in my pajamas and I don't find going out in pajamas very becoming.

I hear a sound of relief on Jane's end. "We're at the Merry People," she tells me. "Charles says he doesn't mind if you come along."

Like I care either way if Charles is okay with it.

We say our goodbyes as I get to my feet and hurry to my room. My hair is still done from earlier today, just pulled up into a bun, and that's fine, so all I have to do is decide on what to wear. Merry People is a kind of upper-class bar so it'll have to be a little fancy. I pick out a white blouse, tuck it into a pair of jeans, put on a belt and hurry to put on some heels and I'm out the door, running the best I can to catch the next bus to the north side of town.

I just barely make the bus, the light breeze pulling strands of hair out of my bun and the loose change jingling in my purse. I show the driver my bus pass and take up a spot at one of the metal poles, holding on because the bus is surprisingly full for eight o'clock at night.

The ride seems to take forever, the bus stopping at every single light and every single bus stop - aren't there other buses to do that? - and I tap my finger against the pole impatiently. I finally reach the bus stop closest to Merry People and get off the bus in such a hurry I wonder how my heels didn't snap.

When I get to the door, there's something already there and he sees me - I know he does because he looks back over his shoulder and we make eye contact - but he doesn't hold the door. He lets it slam shut behind him and I scowl at the back of his head.

A bell jingles when I do pull open the door, though, and my ears are filled with laughter and noise. The glass chandeliers overhead cast a warm glow around the room as I search for my sister, looking for a blonde amongst a crowd of many which is made much more difficult by the guy from outside who walks in front of me consistently - no matter how I try to maneuver around him - and does it slowly. Like he has all the time in the world to reach his destination.

I spot my sister, and when I do it's in a corner table filled with people and her expression is slightly panicked. She's never been good in groups of big people. She meets my eyes across the room and shoves up from the table and begins marching across the room to meet me halfway - and it could happen a lot faster if it weren't for the guy in front of me.

I squeeze my way around Guy From Outside and take long strides to meet Jane. She takes my hands in hers, giving me a beyond grateful look. "Lizzy," she says and it sounds like a breath of relief. "Thank you so much."

I give my sister a soft smile. "Don't worry about it, Janie."

Then from the table my sister had been sitting at: "Darcy! There you are!" This from a blonde man, tall and lean, with narrow hips and a narrow but handsome face.

Jane's cheeks pink. "That's Charles."

I cock a brow. "Is it, now? Should I go say hello?"

Her hands tighten on mine. "I can...introduce you. To Charles and his sisters."

I glance back at the table, and I suppose Guy From Outside must have been the Darcy Charles was yelling at, because Charles is clapping his back, smiling at him. I thought he was tall, but he looks a little dwarfed next to Guy From Outside.

I nod at Jane. "Lead the way."

She pulls me towards the boisterous table, and it seems like the noise quiets a little as they turn to look at us. So many eyes - no wonder Jane felt anxious. But my sister simply pulls her shoulders back, smiles at Charles whose attention is riveted to her. "Charles, I'd like you to meet my sister, Elizabeth."

"Nice to meet you, Elizabeth," we shake hands and I return his friendly smile. He gestures to a tall blonde woman, "This is my sister Louisa" - then to a slender redhead with a haughty expression and a similar narrowness to her - "and my sister Caroline."

Louisa murmurs a greeting and Caroline stares with thinned eyes at me. I have to admit that they're both beautiful; Caroline with her smattering of freckles, high cheekbones and vibrant blue eyes, Louisa with her arched brows, doe-eyes and a square jaw that matches her brother's. In fact, the more I look at the three siblings, the more I see that Charles is really just a combination of the nicer parts of them.

"And this," Charles claps his hand on Guy From Outside's shoulder, "Is my dearest companion, Fitzwilliam Darcy. Darcy, I don't believe you've met my lovely date, Jane? And her sister, Elizabeth?"

I force my face not to show the laughter I feel. _Fitzwilliam_? "A pleasure to make your acquaintance," he says curtly. He nods at my sister, then me, but he won't look at me directly. Odd.

"Likewise," I return.

Charles sparks up a conversation with Jane and they sit in the booth. Jane pulls me down next to her and Charles does the same with Darcy. We're practically alone, the only two people within a reasonable distance to have a conversation with who aren't already otherwise occupied. "What do you do?" I ask him.

He appears genuinely shocked that I spoke to him, and I suppose it's the shock that spurs him to make eye contact with me for the first time since we got inside. His eyes are a deep and dark brown colour that matches his hair. "For work?"

I give him a look. "What else?"

He clears his throat, folding his hands on the table. "I manage estates. Hotels. I inherited the business from my father."

"Oh, that's...interesting," I say, though perhaps I don't say it all that convincingly.

After a moment of awkward silence, he asks me, "What do you do for work, Elizabeth?"

"I'm in university full time," I explain. When he doesn't look impressed - perhaps he is giving me a taste of my own medicine - I add, "I'll be applying for some jobs within the coming month, though, after my exams."

He nods. "What are you majoring in?"

"Business, with a minor in English."

This seems to pique his interest - I'm not sure why that makes me just a tad bit happier to converse with him - and he adjusts his hands on the table. "Do you enjoy literature?"

I smile and he gets this odd look on his face. I would describe it as somewhat pained, if not a lot, if I had to. Has my smile insulted him? I smile wider. "Very much."

"What about poetry? Do you enjoy that, as well?"

I fight not to roll my eyes. It's not his fault I find poetry abhorrent. "Not particularly," I tell him instead. "I find it contrived and just…maybe a little haughty."

"Not even the Greats? Shelley and Milton and -"

I cut him off with a "No, I do not".

Darcy sits back in the seat, a pensive expression on his face. "Bizarre," he says after a moment. "Someone once told me that poetry was the food of love."

"Perhaps you heard wrong." When did love come into the conversation? And who would ever suggest something like that? If I were Darcy I would not trust whoever told him that to tell me the sky was blue. Poetry may have been some great proof of love and devotion during the Romantic period, but I can't imagine reading thirty-six poems written by a man about the way my eyes sparkle and my bosom heaves and how not even the fairest May morning cannot compare to me. It has all been done and said before and if it were to be said to me I don't imagine I would like it.

Darcy's expression is cold after that, and we don't speak further. Caroline engages in him in a conversation across the booth that he doesn't appear very invested in, and I join with my sister and Charles. The night seems to come to a close eventually and I'm surprised to realize on the bus ride home with Jane that I...had fun.

"I like him," I tell Jane.

"Yeah?" She smiles shyly beside me.

For how sociable Charles is, I noticed he's also capable of the same quietness my sister has. I grin at her, "He _really _likes you."

Jane swats half-heartedly at my shoulder. "Shut up," her smile is directed at the floor.

"What? Did you not see him staring at you for most of the night?" I know she did but she probably won't agree with me that it means something.

"It's not nice to lie, Lizzy," she yawns, laying her head on my shoulder. I don't reply, leaning my head against hers, and we sit like that until we reach our stop.


	4. Chapter 3

**Hello! I just wanted to thank you all for your lovely reviews and the immense support! This chapter's for you :))**

* * *

The weekend comes and goes, and then there's Monday and I'm so up to my neck in assignments and looming deadlines that Jane has to repeat to me four times that our mother invited us for dinner tonight (Thursday night, to be specific) and I said I'd be there.

"You're kidding?"

Jane shakes her head, sighing at me. "I'm afraid not, Lizzy."

"Well, when is it?"

She glances at the clock hanging in our kitchen. "In about an hour."

"Shit," I say and Jane agrees wholeheartedly with me before we both head to our rooms in an attempt to make ourselves presentable. I don't think our mother would appreciate if we showed up in sweatpants and crop tops.

At four-thirty Jane and I head out to catch the bus. She's in a green blouse, I'm wearing a white-with-red-stripes blouse and we both have on jeans. Hopefully up to our mother's standards.

On the bus, Jane and I talk in low voices about whether or not she should go out with Charles again. I say she absolutely should.

"But what if he brings his sisters again?" Jane bites at the nail of her pinky finger. "That was weird."

"Well… Yeah, no, you're right. That was really weird." I concede. "But maybe he was just nervous."

Jane shrugs. "It's really not a big deal, Lizzy. I don't think it'll happen again - us going on a date, I mean." She glances away and then spins back to me, eyes glinting before I have the chance to start telling her the exact opposite of what she thinks. "But, Charles' friend! He was cute!"

I cock a brow at her, teasing, "So, what? Are you into them both?"

She slaps me lightly on the arm. "For _you_, Lizzy."

"I'll have to kindly refuse," I tell her, wrinkling my nose at the idea. Me, and _Fitzwilliam_? I know he's tall and showed up to dinner dressed to the damn nines, but he's not… He's nothing special.

"You're so picky," she replies, but that's all she says on the matter and I find myself grateful.

We arrive at our stop a little while after, and walk about five minutes from there to get to our parents' house. My childhood home is on the very outskirts of town, but it is not lonely. The houses are old and spaced out down the street and surrounded by beautiful flora. As we walk Jane picks flowers here and there, slowly assembling a bouquet for the dinner table. She did it all the time when we were children and I smile at the memory.

Soon enough we come to our house, a two-story monstrosity bracketed by two tall, tall trees with well-groomed walking paths that lead around the property. There's light emanating from the downstairs windows and I catch a glimpse of my mother bustling to the door because she'd - per usual - been watching out the window.

The door bursts open and there is our mother, hair piled on top of her head and wearing a dress two sizes too small (and I know because it looks as though it might burst at the seams any second). "My girls!" She throws her arms wide just as Jane and I reach the porch. Obligingly, we wrap our arms around her in a hug and just as quickly pull away.

"Hi, Mom," Jane gives a smile that looks genuine and I try my best to match it. In all honesty I don't really want to be here. I have more important things to be doing than listen to my mother coo over the twins and say that she can't believe how no one has snatched up Jane yet, beauty that she is.

"Jane, Eliza," her voice is over-enthusiastic, almost theatrical. "Come in, come in, supper is almost ready."

We follow after her, getting in trouble for not at least bringing coats because our mother insists it is going to get cold out by the time we have to leave to go home. _It's May_, I want to tell her. _Have you been outside?_

"Your sisters all here already," she says, rather needlessly. The rest of our sisters still live at home.

"Where's Dad?" I ask as we kick off our shoes at the front door and head for the living room.

My mother waves her hand dismissively. "Oh, probably in his office." She laughs, "Who knows with that old bat?"

"Lydia stop being such a brat!" Mary shouts from the living room. "Give it back!"

"Oh, dear," my mother whispers before rushing ahead of us to attempt to smooth out whatever it is Mary and Lydia are fighting about now. But when Jane and I reach the living room, we can clearly see that she has not, in fact, been able to smooth it out. Not that that's unusual. It was usually up to us to sort out the sister spats.

Jane and I turn to each other, sharing a _look _and then head into the living room. Lydia has, presumably, stolen Mary's book and is running around the living room, holding it as high as she can because she's taller than Mary. Kitty is stretched out on the couch, laughing. Mary looks absolutely furious, and Lydia is laughing at the man on the cover: "Oh, you _looooove _Fabio, don't you, Mary?! I bet you dream about snogging him -"

"Lydia you're such a bi -"

"Lydia," Jane says in her sternest teacher-voice. Lydia, Kitty and Mary all stop dead in their tracks. Swivel their heads to look at us. "Give Mary back her book, please."

Our mother, who was in the midst of chasing Lydia, stops too. She lets out a huff as Mary sheepishly holds the book out to Mary, who snatches it back all but snarling. "Well, no more of that now, girls," she runs her hands down the sides of her too-tight dress. "Dinner's nearly ready. I expect you all seated at the table and being polite when I return with your father."

* * *

We help my mother put out the food: roast and potatoes, a nearly ridiculous spread of vegetables. My father is getting everyone drinks. Water and juice are our options, while he pours my mother wine and himself something that's either bourbon or whiskey.

"My Lizzy," he begins as we all take our places at the table (My mother and father at either end, Jane and I on one side, the other three opposite us).

"Yes?"

He spears a piece of roast off the tray, begins cutting it slowly and almost tenderly. "How is school going?"

"Oh, yes!" My mother adds, waving around a spoon spilling peas all over. "How is it going, Lizzy?"

"It's going...well," I smile a close-lipped smile. "I'm almost done."

"Well that's wonderful," he says, returning my smile. My father is a white-haired man, with neatly-kept facial hair and a deep, rumbly voice. He's never been so...busy as her. Where my mother was bustling around taking Jane and I to ballet, Mary to piano, Lydia and Kitty to the playground, he was tucked away in his office, doing whatever it is he does when he's all alone. He prefers the solitude, prefers books to people. I think that's where most of us get the quietness, where Lydia and Kitty are the ones with my mother's...vivality.

I bite into a warm carrot. Chew. Swallow. Smile again. "I'd love it if you all came to my graduation in May."

"We will all be there," my father assures me.

* * *

We clear away the dinner dishes, bring out saucers for the pie we have for dessert.

My mother doesn't sit down, instead, she moves to stand next to my father's chair. She clears her throat. "Before we all dig in, Lydia has an announcement," she's smiling like mad, hands gesturing almost spastically to where my sister sits. My father cranes his neck back to look at his wife, expression wary.

Lydia stands up now. She runs her hands down the sides of her skirt, and that's when I see it: "Lydia!" I almost shout. "Are you wearing an _engagement ring_?"

Jane's head snaps to me and then to Lydia's left hand, where, yes, there's an obnoxiously huge rock on her finger. "Mom -" Jane starts.

Mary shoots to her feet. "You're seventeen!" She bangs her hands, balled into fists, against the wood of the table.

"That's not fair!" Kitty shouts, face red. "She's getting married and I can't even go on a date -!"

My father turns fully in his chair now to gape at the ring on Lydia's finger. Somehow knowing he didn't know about this makes me feel better. Because of course, this is all my mother's doing. I shouldn't have expected anything different. "Harriet, what is the meaning of this?" He asks, face twisting to something like disapproval and annoyance.

My mother lifts her nose at all of us, crossing her arms over her chest. "As I was _saying_, Lydia has an announcement to make."

Lydia holds up her hand, grinning wildly. "I'm getting married!" Her voice is pitchy and I want to cover my ears. This is not _happening_, is it? My father is not going to let this happen -

He pushes out of his chair. "You most certainly are not, young lady!" His voice is booming and sends the chaos of the room to silence in seconds. Mary's expression is furious and I imagine mine looks much the same. Lydia, a teenager, practically still a child, is getting married?

My mother rolls her eyes, lays a hand on my father's shoulder. "Oh, John, don't be so -"

He brushes her hand away in a swift move, picking up Lydia's hand. "Dad - ow! - Dad, stop it!" Lydia tries to yank her hand away as he pulls the ring off her finger.

"You will not be wearing this," he tells her and pockets it. Lydia's face turns as red as Kitty's and then tears are rolling down her cheeks.

"You're - you're horrible!" She screams at him and this time is successful in pulling her hand away, running from the dining room. Despite herself, Kitty follows, because wherever Lydia goes, so does Kitty.

My head falls into my hands and I can hear the blood rushing in my ears. She's not engaged to who I think she is, is she? The timing is just too perfect for it not to be but she's _seventeen_…

I can hear Lydia sobbing somewhere in the house, hear her screaming at Kitty to leave her alone, Kitty yelling right back.

I lift my head. "Who is she engaged to?"

My father cuts me an unimpressed look from where him and my mother where arguing, "She is not -"

"His name is George Wickham," my mother sighs, looking like she might be daydreaming. "He's just the most handsome man and can't you just imagine: Lydia Wickham! It rolls so well off the tongue -"

I don't listen to the rest of what she's saying. The blood is roaring in my ears. I feel like I'm going to be sick.

"Lizzy?" Jane's hand is rubbing my shoulder soothingly.

"Lizzy dear," my mother says, "What's wrong?"

"George dumped me last week because he got engaged, and now you're telling me that the person he is engaged to is my _seventeen year-old sister_! That's what's wrong!" I stand up, voice carrying through the room. "This is illegal, not to mention all kinds of wrong! Lydia hasn't even graduated high school yet and she's engaged to a man six years older than her. And you're _happy _about it!"

"Elizabeth -!"

"I do want to and will not speak to you until you realize how disgusting this is," I spit at my mother and storm out of the room. I'm at the door when I notice Jane is there with me, pushing her shoes onto her feet. She follows me out the door, slamming it for me and I don't think I've ever been more grateful to have her not only as a sister, but as my best friend.

We reach the bus stop before we say anything to each other. Sympathy is written across her face and she tells me, "You're crying," and pulls me into a hug.


	5. Chapter 4

My mother tries to call me once in the following days. I let it go to voicemail. My father doesn't call me at all - no surprise there, though. The only people in my family I will talk to are Mary and Jane.

I hardly see Mary though, and she's not a big phone person, so I don't really hear from her either and I don't reach out. Maybe I should, but I don't.

Jane on the other hand, she's… I can tell she is angry, even when she always has a smile on her face for me. I know it because our mother calls her a hell of a lot more than she calls me - and Jane answers, but her voice lacks that typical sunniness, and she _argues _with our mother. Jane is usually unwilling to argue with anybody about anything.

Otherwise, we try and pretend one of our baby sisters isn't engaged to my ex-boyfriend. I go to school, study myself cross-eyed when I get home and lounge on the couch with Jane in between. Charles calls her, asks her to go out, but she tells him right now isn't a good time and says maybe this weekend.

"Charles again?" I ask, tilting my head against the back of the couch, watching her come towards me, albeit upside down.

Jane's slides across the fake hardwood floors in her pink socks. "Yeah."

"Still wants to go out?"

She plops down beside me. Chews at her bottom lip. Cracks her knuckles (she knows I hate that). In turn, I crack my neck (because she hates that). "No, no… I told him tomorrow for lunch."

"That's great!" I'm beaming, pulling my knees up under me. "Where are you -"

"He wants to bring Fitzwilliam."

My eyebrows rise. "...Okay?"

My sister looks pleadingly at me. "Lizzy, would you?"

I feel defensive immediately. "Would I _what_?" I am almost certain I know where she is leading with this question.

"Come with me? Please!" She adds at my coming objection. "Charles said...he said Darcy likes you!"

I glance at her sideways. "I beg your pardon, Janie?" She can't be serious. That's just something she's making up to get me to go with her. _Fitzwilliam _couldn't even stand to look me in the eyes for more than five consecutive seconds. If that. He was rude, if nothing else. What on Earth would give Charles the impression that that means his friend _likes _me?

Jane grabs my hands, looking at me with wide blue eyes. "No! I promise! I'll call Charles and get him to tell you himself. Darcy said you had the finest eyes he'd ever seen."

"Jane," I say, and can't think of much else to add. Who talks like that? I've gotten _pretty eyes_ before, and _nice ass_, and more nonsense that ultimately means nothing. Fine eyes? I...I kind of like that.

"Will you, Lizzy?" She has on her puppy dog eyes and I roll mine and concede with a sigh.

* * *

Something...is poking me. I roll over in bed, burying my face in the crook between two pillows. The poking continues and I elbow in the general direction it's coming from in annoyance.

And then, suddenly, from directly above me: "Lizzy!"

My eyes open slowly, and when I move onto my back, there's my older sister, smiling over me. Admittedly, this early in the morning, it's a terrifying sight. "Christ," I breathe.

Jane laughs, "No, just me, unfortunately. Now get up." She hops off my bed, trods over to the door I think.

I frown, stare up at the sunlit ceiling. "What time is it?"

"Ten-thirty."

"Why are you waking me up?" I rub my eyes.

"I want to do your hair."

I roll out of my blankets some ten minutes later and let Jane have at me after I brush my teeth. She straightens the hair that's usually just curls that aren't quite curly enough to be nice but curly enough to make my hair look awful if left down. It's nice to have someone else do it for me, and I return the favour by doing her makeup after.

We leave to catch the bus at eleven-thirty, Jane looking pretty in a short green sundress and wedges, me in a smocked off the shoulder white top and high waist jeans. The bus is packed full so we both have to stand, and we sway with every turn and bump. Jane hands me an earbud and I plug it into my right ear, and we both smile at each other during the good parts of the playlist.

We get off at the closest stop to the restaurant Charles picked and walk side by side. When we get there and a hostess tell us to seat ourselves and Jane chooses a four-person table near one of the tall windows, leaving us soaking in the sunshine.

Jane looks at her phone. "They're almost here."

I nod. "Noted."

But "almost" in Charles and Darcy's book must mean twenty minutes because that's how long we sit there, sipping on smoothies. Jane is trying to fold her napkin into a swan (I think) when Charles comes into view, a dark head visible high above his own head.

"Good morning!" He smiles. "So sorry about that - traffic was...um...well, there was a lot of traffic." Charles, like my sister, isn't a very good liar and I give my knowing smile to Darcy, who looks like he swallowed something very _very _sour this morning.

"Beautiful morning, isn't it, Darcy?" I ask him, my head propped on a fisted hand, that smile still on my face.

He unceremoniously sits himself down in the chair opposite me and beside Charles, looking so uncomfortable it's palpable. "I suppose."

I blink, pretending to be very taken aback. "You suppose? The sun is shining and the birds are chirping, what more could you ask for?"

"More sleep," he replies curtly. "And since that is not an option, coffee will have to suffice."

I take a long drink from my smoothie, eyes flitting to my sister who is listening intently as Charles blathers about one thing or another. From the words I catch like "moulding" and "proper structuring" I guess the conversation is about architecture. I turn back to Darcy, who is staring at his empty ceramic mug like it has personally slandered him and his family.

"It's your turn," I say.

His eyes flick to me in surprise. "My turn?"

"To make an attempt at conversation." I lean in slightly, my voice a stage whisper, "I don't see this being much fun for either of us if we sit here silently."

"I can't see this being fun either way," he sends his mug a withering glare. "I'll humour you, though."

I smile tightly. "You have my eternal gratitude."

He ignores that and fixes his stare back on me. "Have you found any poetry you like?"

I bat my eyelashes at him, smiling wider and tighter. "Have you found any poetry you dislike? Or, should I say, have you found any standards?"

To my - slight - delight, he looks absolutely affronted. "I - I have standards!"

"They can't be all too high," I shrug. He opens his mouth once, closes it, opens it, closes it, seemingly at a loss for words. My smile is a wicked thing this time, curling at the corners of my lips. If anything, Darcy is a wonderful distraction from my family.

Then his phone begins to ring and he digs it out of his pocket. I sit back in my chair, watching him as he speaks into the phone. "Georgiana? What's the matter?... You're catching a train, okay… Georgie, no, don't be ridiculous. I will come and get you… Alright, I'll see you soon."

He puts the phone away, leans over to say something quietly to Charles who nods and slaps Darcy on the back a few times. _Girlfriend?_ I want to ask but decide not to. It's not really any of my business.

He scowls at me and gets up, "It was a pleasure to see you again, Elizabeth." For a second I'm so startled by his using my full name that I don't know what to say. Then I remember that that's how Charles introduced me to Darcy and I open my mouth to speak only to find Darcy is already to the restaurant's door and leaving.

* * *

My phone will not stop vibrating against the back of my thigh. I stuck it under my leg when I sat down for this morning's economics lecture and I am now regretting the action. Though I'm irritated I try to ignore it and focus on what's important here: the lecture. Because my final grades depend on my understanding this lecture and every other lecture my professor has given and I'm not doing great at staying tuned in to them so far. Economics is, admittedly, boring.

The buzzing stops and starts again and I have to grit my teeth and buckle down and focus. It's probably my mother trying to call me. It usually takes her a good week to feel guilty about something awful she's done and then she gets all weepy and drowns you in apologies.

_Focus_, I remind myself, and by the end of the lecture I have a good four pages of notes, but the girl beside me has eight so I ask if she can send them to me as we all grab our stuff.

I pick up my phone and scan my lock screen. Nineteen missed calls from Mary. One from my mother. Twelve from Jane and about a bazillion texts from my sisters.

I tap on the first number that I can find and put my phone to my ear, booking it out of the lecture hall. "Lizzy!" Mary sounds frantic. "I've been calling you for over an hour!"

"I'm so sorry, I was in a lecture -"

"Lydia ran away," she says, and I stop dead right there in the middle of the hallway. People go around me like I'm the rock that parts the stream and my brain just isn't working enough to get me to move. I'm frozen.

"She _what_?"

"I woke up this morning to drive her to school and she was gone. Mom and Kitty are flipping their shit and the cops said we can't file a missing person report until forty-eight hours has passed -"

"What the fuck!" I say, and my phone starts to buzz against my head. I pull it away to see who's calling me. "Fuck, it's Jane. Do you mind if I add her to the call?"

Mary tells me she doesn't care and I add our older sister: "Lizzy! Ohmygod, where have you _been_?"

"I was in a lecture," I tell her the same time Mary says, "She was in a lecture, Jane."

"Mary?" Jane croaks like she's crying.

"Hi, Jane," Mary replies in monotone.

I hear Jane take in a breath. "Lizzy Lydia -"

"I know," I say. "She ran away… Wait, how do you know she ran away if she was gone when you woke up, Mary?"

"She left a note."

"And what did the note say?" I demand, bursting out of the university's doors.

Jane sniffles softly and Mary says, "She went with George."

"George?! She ran away with my -" I almost say boyfriend and catch myself. "...With George?"

"What if she doesn't come back?" Jane laments, her voice almost unintelligible through the tears.

"If she doesn't come back we will go get her," I say. "Listen, I'll meet you guys. Where are you?"

"At work," Mary says.

"At the apartment," Jane sniffs.

"Okay," I breathe, pacing back and forth. Someone brushes past me, nearly clipping me in the shoulder. She whips around and says sorry and I wave her off. "Jane I'll come and get you and Mary, you meet us at the house."

They agree and we hang up, and I know I should be running to catch the bus I know is on it's way to the closest bus stop if it's not already there but I feel - winded, almost. Like someone has punched the air out of me with a bag of bricks. I glance around and make direct eye contact with the person in the car idling at the curb beside me. His eyes go wide and I realize with a jolt that it's _Darcy_.

What the hell is _Darcy _doing at my school?

Did Darcy just hear everything that I said to my sisters?

Oh sweet fu -

"Elizabeth," he says with a curt nod.

"Darcy," I return. He begins to talk and I cut him off: "I'd love to chat, Darcy, I really would, but I have something I need to be doing."

"Well I don't mean to inconvenience you," he retorts with something that sounds somewhere between a breathy laugh and a snort.

"You never do," I sigh, rubbing at my forehead. That probably wasn't a fair thing for me to say and I when I go to apologize, the look on his face stops me short.

His eyes are narrowed, his whole face pinched and his cheeks reddening. When he speaks this time it sounds like he is in physical pain. "Would you like a ride, Elizabeth?"

A harsh laugh comes out of me, "And inconvenience you? Never, Fitzwilliam."

"You are not inconveniencing me if I am offering," he seems to grit his teeth.

"Bullshit," I spit back at him. The wind blows my hair all around my face and I grab it in a fistful, tugging it up my head and piling it into a bun. I think about what I've been saying to him when he's just trying to offer me a ride and take a deep breath. Meeting his eyes I say, "No, thank you. But I appreciate the -"

He gives a long-suffering sort of sigh. "Just get in the car, Elizabeth."

My mouth is hanging open a little and I'm staring at him, wondering if he really just - "Did you just - ?" I shake myself. "I didn't realize you didn't understand the word 'no'."

He leans his head back against his headrest. "And I didn't realize you were so stubborn." _Like a fucking mule_, I want to tell him.

"Darcy, I -"

"Elizabeth, please, would you get in the car? I am going to feel bad about this all day -"

I give him a disbelieving look. "Then fucking deal with it. You're a big boy and I am not here to ease your conscience." I spin on my heel, heading for the bus stop. I hear Darcy calling my name from behind me but I don't turn. Lydia is so much more important than Darcy right now - and always - and I can't believe that I just spent at least five minutes arguing with him when I should've been running to catch my bus.

The bus is already long gone when I get there and the next one doesn't come for another half an hour. My apartment is the same distance, less if I run a little bit, so I get going and try not to think about what may or may not be happening to Lydia in George's _care_.

* * *

**What did we think? Drop me a review and let me know!**


	6. Chapter 5

My parents' house is in chaos when Jane and I shove through the - open and unlocked - front door. I can hear my mother, sobbing the same way Lydia had been the last time Jane and I were here.

"Where's Mom?" Jane asks Mary when we happen upon her, reading in the living room.

"Where's Dad?" I ask.

Mary sets down her book, hands shaking slightly. "Mom is…" there's a particularly loud sniffle and then a louder wail to punctuate Mare's sentence. "Well, she's upset. Dad went out."

"Where did he go?" I demand.

Kitty, stretched out on the couch in front of the window like a cat in the sun replies, "He went to go ask Uncle Joseph for help."

_Mom's brother?_ I want to say. But we only have one uncle, and it's Uncle Joey. He's our mother's twin, unspeakably wealthy, and usually wants nothing to do with our mother. He, however, adores us. Him and Aunt Sarah both.

So of course it makes sense Dad would go to Uncle Joey for help. He has the resources and more than likely the want to help us find Lydia. I wonder… "Do you think he'll tell Uncle Joey why Lydia's gone?"

Jane chews on her pinky. "Would he? That makes...Mom look so bad."

"Not that she doesn't deserve it," Mary snorts.

"This isn't helping!" Kitty shouts, staring up at the ceiling, her short blonde hair hanging over the side of the couch. It never really mattered before - and to be honest it still doesn't really matter - but without Lydia attached at the hip, I can't see the resemblance between the twins. Kitty shares Jane's blondeness, and her features are small and almost squished. Her face is small and rounded. Lydia is almost Kitty's complete opposite: brunette, sharp, straight features like me.

"What do you want us to do, Kit?" Jane's voice is soft and gentle, almost going unheard over our mother's mournful wailing.

"I want my stupid sister to come back!"

Jane moves over to sit on the couch with Kitty, who turns her body almost violently away, crossing her arms. Jane moves Kitty's head and sits down, letting our sister lay down on her. Jane runs her fingers through Kitty's hair and says, "It will be okay. You'll see."

* * *

"Lizzy?" Jane waves a hand in front of my face. Her forehead is creased in that way it does when she's worried about me.

"Janie?"

"You alright?"

I nod, twiddling with the bracelet on my wrist. The way I paid absolutely no attention in class today is exactly what I should not be doing if I want to pass my exams but it's...it's not easy to pay attention to things that are ultimately much less important than my runaway sister's wellbeing.

"_Lizzy_," Jane is trying to use her teacher voice on me. It's not going to work.

It's not.

"What?" I return her frown, dropping my hand from the bracelet.

Jane gives me a _look_. "Don't do anything stupid while I'm gone. Please."

"Gone?" I say. "Where're you going? And at six-thirty on a _Thursday_. For shame, Jane!" I laugh. "You better be home before midnight, young lady. You have school in the morning."

Jane rolls her eyes at me, smiles. "I make no promises. Charles invited me over to watch a movie."

I raise a brow. "Oh? What movie?"

Jane hides her face in her shoulder, or at least tries to, but I can see the red on her face. "I don't know," she mumbles.

"Oh my god," I say with a sort of shocked laugh, watching my sister wide-eyed. "You're going to get laid."

Jane's head snaps around to look at me, mouth hanging open. She looks absolutely mortified.

My smile quickly drops away. "Jane - oh, I'm...I'm so sorry Jane, I didn't mean -"

"Gotcha!" She tries, but she still looks so embarrassed and I feel guilty for even saying it.

"Jane," I put a hand on her shoulder.

"Lizzy, it's fine," she shoves me away, but there isn't any force behind it. Still, I let my hand drop.

"It's not. I said something that made you uncomfortable and I'm sorry."

"No, it's not that -" Jane stops, lets out a deep sigh. "It's just, I've been thinking about...that, and I… It feels too early for me to do anything with Charles, you know?"

Well. _Hm_. I only got to the _getting laid_ part with George when we were both drunk and only ever then. That was how we started going out. "Yeah, I know what you mean," is what I tell Jane, though.

We chat a bit more and I tell her to be safe and that I'll see her tomorrow and she's off to catch the bus.

* * *

Right as I'm walking out of class the next morning, my phone starts to ring. And I dread whatever whoever is calling me is going to tell me this time. _Oh, Mary has been married off to an English prince? And Kitty is being held for ransom?_ Must be Friday.

"Hey, Jane."

A loud, barking cough. "Hi, Lizzy."

"Aw, Janie, what happened?"

Another cough, followed by a sniffle. "I missed the bus last night."

"Did you walk to Charles', Jane?!"

"...And what about it?" I let out a disbelieving puff of laughter. Jane groans, "I feel like I have the Black Plague."

"I would've said tuberculosis, but the Black Plague sounds more ominous and threatening, if that's what you were going for."

"It wasn't," Jane laughs, her voice hoarse.

"Are you at home?" I ask, coming up to the front doors.

"I'm still at Charles'."

"Oh no," I lament. "Did you give Charles the Black Plague, too?"

She sighs, "No, not yet anyway."

"I can come pick you up," I offer.

"No, that's alright."

Surprised, I have to laugh a little. "You sure?"

"Oh, I'm quite comfortable at Charles'." Her voice sinks to a whisper, "He's so worried about me, it's kind of cute."

"Oh-kay," I say, because what else am I supposed to say? "Well, I'm done classes for the day, you want me to come see you?"

"Sure," Jane replies and rhymes off an address and we say goodbye. It takes me a good minute or two to figure out what bus I'll need to take to get to Charles', but I figure it out and manage to catch it in the nick of time. Charles' doesn't live in the city - in fact, he lives kind of close to my parents - and his house is a sprawling thing, three-stories high, pale blue with tall white columns in the forefront. Truth be told, though, his gardens could use some work so they're more flowers and less dead grass and weeds.

There's a beautiful car parked in the long driveway, which is strange because there's a garage beside the house. Maybe it's Darcy's? God, I kind of hope it isn't. That's one person I don't particularly feel like dealing with right now. Still, I've come all the way out here, and Jane is just inside and I said I'd be here - I go up the porch and knock three times on the door.

The door swings inward. My eyes settle on a white dress shirt, travel up up up -

Shit.

"Elizabeth?" Darcy squints down at me. His normally neat hair is in a bit of a disarray, and there are purple-blue crescents under his eyes.

"Darcy." I give a mock curtsey, and when I stand straight again Darcy hasn't moved and is still squinting at me like he's not sure if I'm a real person or not. I cock a brow, "May I come in?"

He clears his throat, moves out of the doorway, "Of course."

I walk in, eagerly taking in the decor. If I thought the outside of the house was nice, the inside is - unbelievable. Tall ceilings, curving staircase, everything inside sleek and modern. The floor is polished so much I can almost see myself clearly reflected in them.

"I assume you're here to see your sister?" Darcy asks, still behind me.

I glance back at him over my shoulder. "I am. Any idea where I could find her?"

He gives a dry look. "None. Whatsoever."

"Has anyone ever told you how helpful you can be?"

"No," he says. "Never. Go on and tell me."

I turn to face him fully, cross my arms over my chest and tilt my chin up to meet his eyes. "Oh, but I hear lying is a sin. You aren't asking me to commit a sin for you?"

He suddenly looks uncomfortable and I offer a grin. This seems to make him even more uncomfortable and he clears his throat, breaking eye contact. "She's upstairs." He walks away, and I watch him go until I can't see him anymore.

* * *

"Lizzy!" Jane visibly brightens when she sees me. She sounds awful, though, and she's buried under at least three or four blankets. On the night table beside the bed is perched an opened box of tissues - and at least several unopened ones - a bottle of cold medicine, and a humidifier spraying a fine mist into the air.

At least she's being well taken care of, if not in the comfort of her own home.

I can't help but laugh, "Hey, Janie."

"What?" She questions with a smile. Jane pushes herself up in bed, the blankets piling up around her hips. Her hair is pulled back in a messy ponytail and pieces have spilled out, in a haphazardous mess around her face.

I sit at the foot of the bed, bringing my knees up to my chest. "You just look very - _very _\- well cared for."

She blushes and tells me, "Charles is...concerned."

I'm still smiling as my brow arches. "For your well-being?"

"What else?" Jane returns my smile and then it dissolves into a coughing fit. I scoot up the bed and pat her back, and when she's finished coughing for the moment, Jane's head sags against my shoulder. "I feel like I'm dying," she groans.

"You'll be alright," I pat her head. We sit there for a while, Jane coughing and sniffling on and off while we watch videos on our phones and pretend that nothing is totally and utterly amiss in our lives. (_Ahem, Lydia_.)

"So Charles has nice taste," I begin.

Jane turns and gives me a curious look as she measures out some medicine for herself. "What do you mean?"

"The house," I tell her. "It's really quite -"

Jane stares at me incredulously. "Lizzy, you know this is Darcy's house?... Right?"

I get up off the bed, feeling suddenly very weird about how comfortable I've been getting on Darcy's furniture. I smooth the wrinkles out of the blankets where I was just sitting. "As a matter of fact, I didn't know that."

Jane drinks down her medicine with a grimace and then says to me, "You don't have to feel weird, Lizzy. I didn't know until last night, either. Darcy doesn't mind at all -"

"I mean I think you're wrong but -"

"He told Charles he thought you were coming last night, too and that was the only reason he -"

I smile tightly at Jane, eyebrows approaching my hairline. "I have to use the bathroom," I blurt and retreat from - well not from the room, mostly my sister. And not even really from Jane but from what she's _saying_. _Why does it even matter what she's saying about Darcy?_ I ask myself. _It's just _Darcy_. Uncomfortable, aloof, literal giant of a man Darcy_.

Before I even realize it, I've wandered away from Jane's guest room, up a flight of stairs, and all I can see, everywhere, is white. The shapes the sheets make, draped over furniture as they are, paint a strange picture for me. This admittedly nice house has a third story where all the furniture is so disused it's covered up.

Of course, Darcy doesn't particularly strike me as the type to have a lot of people at his house at any given time. _So why buy such a big house?_

I find a window seat, and fold my legs underneath me, staring out the window at what must be the backyard. It's vast and dark, and against the ever-darkening sky, I can see the tops of trees and the many stars dotting the sky. There's no moon and I wonder if Lydia can see the moon wherever she is.

_Is Lydia even still alive?_ a part of me wonders. I don't know George all that well. Our relationship wasn't...communicative. It was mostly friends with the benefits that only happened after consuming a lot of alcohol. And even if I trusted him with myself, I certainly don't trust him with my baby sister. She's _seventeen_. The fact that she'll be eighteen in a month means nothing. She'll still be Lydia, immature and learning. George, on the other hand, is twenty-four and _fucking knows better_. I do not consider myself a violent person, but if I ever see George Wickham again, I swear I will punch him so hard he forgets his own fucking name.

"Elizabeth?" I stiffen at the sound of Darcy's voice behind me. Only now do I realize tears are pouring down my cheeks, and I put my shoulders back. I wipe away the tears that won't quit coming even though I want them to so bad. The absolute last person I want to have to explain my tears to is Darcy, but of course, it's him.

"Darcy," I reply. _Think, think of something else to say_. But I can't. I'm drawing a blank and it's...it's…

"Are you alright?" He asks, and he sounds concerned. I keep my back to him, though, trying to pull in deep, even breaths to calm my hammering heart.

I take another one in, "Yes, just - I was looking for the bathroom and I..." I trail off. What's a good excuse for being in a part of the house so rarely used that the furniture is covered in white sheets? "I got lost," I tell him.

"I can show you to the door, if you'd like," he offers.

_Well...shit_. I really talked myself into a corner, didn't I? "Thanks," standing up on slightly unsteady legs, I turn to face him. I don't really have a choice unless I plan to be especially strange and walk backwards with my head down.

I see surprise flare in Darcy's expression, faint light from the windows along the hall casting his face in sharp relief. We stare at each other for seconds that stretch on and on into minutes, neither of us speaking. I feel like I'm barely breathing despite my pointed efforts mere minutes ago to do exactly that. He's so -

"I'm sorry about your sister."

I stiffen even more, take a step back as I wipe at my eyes once more. "How did you know about that?"

He rocks back on his heels, seemingly uncomfortable again. "Jane mentioned it." Darcy pauses, lips still open and he has a contemplative expression on his face. "Have you heard anything?"

I shake my head. "Nothing. She left a letter, though." I regret telling him that as soon as I do. He's going to ask -

He cocks his head, "What did the letter say, if you don't mind me asking?"

A laugh escapes, despite my trying to keep it in. I could lie, but I don't and don't ask me why: "She ran away with my ex-boyfriend - who she happened to get engaged to days before."

Darcy stares at me again, eyes wide with what I can only assume is disbelief. "You're serious?"

"Unfortunately."

"Well if there's anything I can do to help, Elizabeth," he offers, "Please let me know."

I give him a wobbly close-lipped smile. "I appreciate that, but unless you know where George Wickham is, you can't be of very much help."

Something flashes across his face, gone before I can get a good look. But I still watch his face, wondering if it will come again. Darcy clears his throat. "Come on, I'll bring you to an empty room."

I fumble for words for a second, "Oh you - Darcy, you don't need to do that."

He shrugs. "I don't need to do anything, but I'm offering."

"I'll have to decline, but thank you. Could you show me back to Jane's room? I'd like to say goodbye before I go."

We reach the bottom of the staircase and Darcy shoves his hands into the pockets of the dress pants he's still wearing for some reason I can't fathom. Wouldn't that be uncomfortable? He jerks his chin to the end of the hallway I have my back to. "Fifth room on the right. You should have no problem finding it." He turns and heads for the curving staircase leading down to the main floor. I can hear his footsteps, loud against the backdrop of utter silence, all the way down the hall to Jane's room.

I open the door slowly so as to be sure it doesn't creak because I don't hear any noise from inside my sister's room. Sure enough, my sister is sound asleep under the blankets, snoring lightly. Satisfied she's comfortable, and knowing Charles, if not Darcy, will take good care of her, I head for the front door, closing it softly behind me.

* * *

**Brace yourselves: the drama truly begins next chapter. In short summary, Lizzy makes a new friend, Darcy shows up to a family dinner, and YEAH. You can be sure THAT goes REALLY well.**


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